Slipping Off
by Brii Taylor
Summary: Stella is shot in a suspect chase. After losing a considerable amount of blood, she slips into a coma, spending three days drifting in and out of consciousness. She wakes up realizing that things between her and her partner have changed. SMacked one-shot!


"Stella, watch out!"

It all happened in slow motion. She turned at the sound of his voice, and at the same time heard the _bang_ of a gunshot nearby. She caught a glimpse of his face—horror, rage, and something else prominent—before she felt the bullet enter her torso. She gasped in pain and went down, her head spinning.

"Stella! NO!" she heard two more gunshots, but they echoed off the sides of her skull. She faintly placed a hand over the new hole in her stomach and desperately tried to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. Her eyelids felt heavy, her arms and legs had been turned into molten lead… she closed her eyes.

Suddenly, someone was pressing hard into her stomach.

"Stella! Stay with me!" Mac shouted. Stella felt a distant prick of annoyance.

_I'm right here. You don't need to yell_, Stella thought. Her lips tried to form words, but the same lead that had claimed her arms and legs was claiming her mouth, too, and the best she could manage was a weak gurgle.

"Sh, shh-sh-sh-sh-sh," Mac shushed her soothingly, brushing the hair out of her eyes while his other hand remained tight against her abdomen. "Don't talk, Flack radioed for an ambulance, they'll be here soon, you'll be okay—" his voice caught on emotion. "You'll be okay, Stel," he whispered, bringing his mouth close down next to her ear. His breath tickled her skin, and a small sensation of pleasure trickled through her. She tried to smile, but the pain, which she had been somewhat able to hold at bay, blossomed suddenly. She winced and groaned. Mac's face swam suddenly in front of her.

"You listen to me, Stella," Mac said fiercely. "You are not going to die, you hear me? You are going to live. You're not going to leave me here, Stel." His voice broke. "I need you, Stella," he admitted quietly. He pressed his lips to hers briefly, and Stella felt the warm stirrings of…something inside of her, possibly the last longings of life leaving her. She closed her eyes, her breathing coming in short gasps. Mac shook her shoulder.

"No, Stella! Stay with me!" he commanded.

_I'm trying_, Stella thought. _I'm trying_. She could feel blackness on the edges of her vision, threatening to overwhelm her. She fought against it, hard, but the blackness was so inviting… it was warm, she wouldn't feel any pain, she could stay forever in that blackness if she wanted to.

She could hear someone calling her name, and she fought to remember who it was that was calling her name… she wished they would come closer, because the blackness brought with it a roaring in her ears, and she couldn't hear them, couldn't tell who they were and what they wanted…

A sudden burst of sound jerked her. People talking.

"Get her in the ambulance, now!"

"We're gonna lose her!"

"Stella? Stella, can you hear me?"

She recognized Mac's voice and used all of her strength to nod.

"Good," he said, worry in his voice. "Stella, you're in an ambulance on the way to Queen of Mercy. You got shot. Do you remember? Nod if you do."

Stella nodded again, again using all of her strength.

"You're almost there, Stella. You're gonna be okay. Okay?" Mac's voice sounded scared. She somehow summoned the energy to raise her hand and put it on his cheek. He put his hand over hers and squeezed it. She forced her eyes open and looked into Mac's. She tried to put a lot of feeling into that glance, tell him everything he thought she should know in case she… she didn't want to think about that.

She drifted in and out of consciousness until the paramedics wrenched her hand from Mac's. She remembered that clearly. Conversation came in snatches, until finally someone put another mask over her face and she knew no more.

The next thing she remembered was someone's hand holding hers. She wanted to open her eyes and see if it was who she thought it was, but try as she might, she couldn't. It was much like an out of body experience—feeling someone's hand on hers, hearing his breathing, smelling his scent of coffee and sandalwood and a lightly soapy scent, and somehow knowing that it was him. She desperately wanted to open her eyes, but she was slipping again… as she fought for consciousness, she heard his whispered wish…

And then she heard him talking quietly with someone. His hand was no longer in hers, but resting on her forearm.

"Will she survive?" he asked. Stella wanted to roll her eyes. _Of course I will,_ she thought impatiently. _I'm fine_. However, whoever spoke next seemed to have a different opinion.

"She lost a lot of blood, Detective. We almost lost her in surgery; she's very lucky to be alive. However, we don't know if there's permanent brain damage yet, and we won't know until she's awake."

_Well, duh_, Stella thought. _Of course I don't have brain damage_. She again tried to open her eyes and found she couldn't. She tried moving one of her fingers and found that it too stayed still. She began to feel the edges of panic; what if she couldn't move? What if she would never wake up? The doctor spoke again, interrupting her down-spiral of fear.

"There is a good chance she'll wake up," the doctor said. "It might take a few days, but she should wake up. We have her in a medically induced coma…" the doctor's voice faded away, much to Stella's chagrin, as she slipped away again…

Now Stella was aware of a female in the room. She was sniffling.

"Is she gonna be okay?" she asked someone. It was Lindsay.

"I… I don't know," Mac admitted falteringly. "The doctors have her in a medically induced coma, because of the GSW she sustained and its proximity to her vital organs. What have you got for me?"

Another male voice answered. Danny. "We found the bastard in a hospital across town. You hit him in the leg and the shoulder. Neither was fatal."

"Good. I didn't mean them to be," Mac said grimly. "Has he admitted to anything yet?"

"No, but, I mean, we all saw him shoot her in cold blood, and the evidence against him for the bodega robbery is pretty damning, so he should be going away for awhile."

"Yeah," Lindsay added. "He's lawyered up, so we can't question him now." The disappointment in her voice was evident. "It's a shame, too, because…" Lindsay's voice faded away, and Stella felt a moment's irritation before she gave way to unconsciousness.

"… Don't care what he says, we've got more than enough evidence to convict him!" Flack was saying angrily. There was silence, and then Flack was shouting.

"HE SHOT A COP IN A SUSPECT CHASE! MAC WAS PERFECTLY JUSTIFIED IN RETURNING FIRE!" he roared. "This IA investigation is a piece of crap, Chief, and you know it." More silence. "Yes, I know exactly who the hell I'm talking to. I'm just wondering, what did this piece-of-shit waste of human flesh ever do for you or the city that convinced you to pursue this?" Pause. Then Flack spoke quietly, fury dripping from every word. "I think you know _exactly_ what I'm insinuating, and I'm sure you don't like it. Mac is a good cop. Stella is a good cop. You _were_ a good cop, and when you're willing to stop playing politics, you'll see that this is a load of bull." A phone snapped shut, and Flack sighed. She heard him walk closer and sink into a chair. Stella felt a surge of pride for the younger cop. She knew how hard that was for him. Again, she wished to open her eyes, but—

Mac was there again. Stella felt a moment of confusion, disorientation as she realized she must have slipped off again. She could feel him, his head resting on crossed arms, which were lying next to her. She tried again to open her eyes, wanting desperately to see him, and this time, she succeeded.

It was dark in the room. A shaft of light fell across her bed, illuminating a sleeping Mac. He snored gently, his forehead still creased in worry even in his sleep. One of his hands held hers; the other rested on top of a gun. She smiled, foolishly using up all of her energy. Her eyes drifted shut again, but she knew he would be there when they opened…

They did not open again for quite some time. When they did, Mac was there, as she knew he would be, but he looked terrible. He was in the same clothes she had seen him in when she saw him last—the exact same clothes, Stella would realize later, that he had been wearing when she got shot. He had more than a few days of beard growth on his face, and his eyes were red and bloodshot. The bags under his eyes were dark and gave him a menacing look. But when he looked down at her and saw her eyes had opened, his face split into a relieved grin.

"Hey," he said quietly, taking her hand and holding it to his face. The beard under her fingers felt foreign. He kissed her hand gently. "How you doing?"

Stella smiled, relieved that she no longer felt tired. She opened her mouth.

"I'm okay," she rasped. She cleared her throat, and Mac smiled.

"Yeah, I don't imagine you're feeling too great right now," he said. "Want some water?"

Stella nodded. Mac got up and walked over to a counter where a pitcher of water and a cup sat. He poured water into the cup and took it over to Stella.

"Can you—" she gestured weakly with her hands. Mac nodded and brought the cup to her lips. She drank thirstily, enjoying the cooling sensation the water left behind.

A bit of the water leaked out of the corner of her mouth and dribbled down her chin. Mac smiled and used his other hand to wipe the water away. Stella drained the cup quickly, spilling only a little more. Mac removed the cup from her mouth and wiped away the rest of the water. She smiled, embarrassed.

"Thanks," she said shyly, looking down.

"You're welcome," Mac said with a small smile. He scooted the chair closer to her.

"So how are you feeling?" Mac asked. Stella considered this.

"I can't feel my stomach," she admitted. "It's so _weird_…" she trailed off, poking at her stomach. Almost immediately, a sharp pain stabbed into her stomach.

"Ow! Shit," she gasped, as Mac looked on in a combination of horror and amusement. "Don't laugh," she added reproachfully. "That _hurt_."

"Well of course it did," Mac said dryly. "You poked your gunshot wound."

"Yeah, well, at least I don't have to worry about not feeling my stomach anymore," she said, rubbing her stomach gingerly. She winced.

"Stella, stop touching it," Mac said exasperatedly. He took both of her hands in his. She looked up into his eyes and found herself unable to look away. Mac's eyes captured her, swallowing her up into their ocean-like depths. He leaned forward, letting go of one of her hands. With his free hand, he cupped her cheek gently.

"You had me really worried," he admitted, his eyes staring into hers, also finding himself unable to look away.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"It's okay," he whispered. Time seemed to slow down, and he slowly leaned forward.

Their lips met, and he moaned. To finally taste her, feel her lips against his, was everything he's thought it would be and then some. Stella responded to his moan with a moan of her own, unsure whether or not she was still unconscious but not caring to waste time thinking about it before she woke up. Her hand found its way to his cheek, then slid seductively behind his ear to cradle the base of his neck. He turned his head and she willingly parted her lips, sighing happily when his tongue slipped into her mouth. He explored her mouth, gently running his tongue over her teeth. He unwillingly withdrew his tongue, tracing her lips with the tip of his tongue. Stella gasped for breath as he pulled away. She brought her mouth to his once, twice. Then she collapsed back into her pillows, breathing hard. She smiled, and Mac grinned back.

"Well," Stella said lightly after a second. "That was…"

"Great," Mac finished for her.

"I was going to say wonderful, but great works, too," Stella said. She leaned forward and kissed him again on the cheek. His grin widened, and Mac realized he was happy, truly happy in a way he hadn't been in a long time.

He took her hand and kissed it.

"Stella," he said. "I'm glad you're okay. You really did have me worried, and when you were lying there, I—"

"Wait," Stella interrupted. "How long was I out?"

Mac looked down at her, his expression grave.

"Three days," he said quietly. "You were unconscious for three days, and those three days were the longest three days in my life. I was terrified, so scared I was going to lose you at any moment…" he trailed off, a haunted look in his eye. He looked over at her.

"You had me worried," he said. "I'm just so glad you made it. I care about you too much. I don't know what I'd have done if you'd—" he broke off, shaking his head.

"Died?" Stella supplied quietly. Mac nodded, looking up at her torturously.

"I wouldn't have been able to live with myself," he said in a voice so quiet, Stella wondered if she'd imagined it. Mac looked down at their intertwined fingers and cleared his throat.

"Life without you is… unimaginable," he said, looking up at her shyly. Stella smiled.

"I couldn't imagine life without you, either," Stella said honestly. A grin spread over Mac's face.

"I love you, Stella. I would fight off the world for you," he said earnestly.

Stella's heart, which had been beating slightly faster from the earlier exertion, swelled with affection and love for her partner. She realized that the words he was saying were true.

"I love you, too, Mac," she said, taking both hands and cupping his cheeks. Mac smiled and imitated her, leaning forward to kiss his love once more.


End file.
